Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3209

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3209
by Angharad

Copyright© 2017 Angharad

  
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“And you expect me to believe that?” My husband had returned and so had his grumpy mood. He accused me of telling his dad that we’d rowed and his father gave him a flea in his ear.

“Simon, I really don’t care what you believe, I told you the truth, I simply told him that you’d popped out and I wasn’t sure where you were.”

The look he gave me tended to indicate he still wasn’t sure but it appeared he was wavering. “Okay, I believe you.”

“I’m sorry about the holiday thing, I assumed you would tell me if you were coming or that you weren’t because of work commitments.”

“Oh that—yeah, okay.”

Well bugger me—the bastard wound me up, disappeared in a huff and now it seems it isn’t important. He’s lucky he’s not wearing that lasagne. However, being of the gentler sex, I’ll say nothing and suppress the desire to beat his head in.

I make lasagne and it’s okay, David makes it and it is heavenly. Ambrosia may be the food of the gods, but that’s only because they haven’t tasted David’s lasagne. For several minutes little if anything was said as we all feasted our snouts in the trough and swallowed down the Italian delight. As soon as we finished eating I warned them that it was a snack meal for tea as David was evening off and he was off tomorrow, so I’d have to cook.

“Can’t we eat out somewhere? We haven’t done that for ages.” That was Trish.

“I suppose we could...” I said with even less conviction than I felt. It’s a real expedition when we go because there are so many of us.

Simon picked up his mobile and a moment later was ordering a table for us. “Green room, one o’clock, wear something respectable—all of you.”

“Yay,” they all went dancing out of the room, led by the pied Trish.

“I’m playing tomorrow,” sighed Danielle.

“What time?” I asked.

“It’s a friendly, so—hang on I’ll go and check.” She walked briskly from the room on heels that would have given me a nosebleed, her bum swishing to and fro in her tight dress. I watched Simon’s eyes follow her progress.

“Like what you see?” I asked him.

“I’m trying to remember she used to be a boy—but it’s very difficult. How come you don’t sashay around like that?”

“Well I can’t walk in heels that high, as you well know; besides which my arse is so big if I waggled it about like that I’d knock the furniture over.”

He snorted. “Cathy, dearest, your bum is veritable treasure and exactly the right size.”

“You sound like your father—what was he after you for anyway?”

“He’s going to be at the hotel tomorrow and wondered if we could go for lunch.”

“So why didn’t he tell me that?” I felt like I was being treated as a ten year old, which might be appropriate for some of my behaviour, but not today.

“We were supposed to be meeting tomorrow but he’s altered that to Tuesday. Until he told me that, he couldn’t ask us to lunch.”

“He could have asked me,” I huffed then remembered the ten year old bit and tried to make light of it. “I mean I could have been doing something.”

“Well I told you instead, so wear something to get him going.”

“Simon, I’m a happily married woman who has no desire to flirt with her father in law however desirable he may be—and you should know better than to even suggest it.”

“Okay, I apologise—it’s just nice now and again to make him realise I have one thing he can’t have—you.”

“You make me sound like an object—I resent that.”

“It wasn’t meant to, I’m sorry.”

“You two at it again?” asked Danielle as she returned. We both blushed and mumbled. “It’s a ten o’clock game, so I should be home by twelve.

“I’ll come and watch,” said Simon, “take you there and bring you back.”

“In the F type?” she asked excitedly.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she jumped up and pecked him on the cheek before disappearing in a cloud of perfume accompanied by squeals of pleasure.

“Some people appreciate me,” he remarked.

“Let me borrow the F type to go shopping and I’ll kiss you on the cheek too.” I was bluffing.

“A peck on the cheek for the loan of my car—it’ll cost you a bit more than that.”

“Like how much?”

“Come upstairs and I’ll tell you.”

“So how come my brother let you borrow his precious car?” asked Stella as I drove his powerful beast off to Salisbury. I wasn’t going to tell her but a gentle throb somewhere in my panties was the answer, it was a quickie in every sense and I was showered and dressed within half an hour of going upstairs. I didn’t actually like his car, it was an automatic and I prefer a manual gear box, but the temptation to ask was overpowering.

“You coming to the green room, tomorrow?” I asked her as she hadn’t mentioned it.

“No, meeting up with another Catherine—a woman I used to work with years ago, she’s got a couple of kids too. If I’d know you were going to the green room, I’d have postponed it—never mind it’ll be good to catch up.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it just as much. What did you want in Salisbury?” It was her idea to go there, just the two of us.

“Nothing in particular, just been a while since we went there.”

“Can’t remember the last time I went there,” I said and it was true I couldn’t. “Hope we can find a parking space.”

“Surprised you didn’t arrange to meet up with Siân and Kirsty.”

“Who said I haven’t?”

“Well are we?”

“Just Siân, Kirsty is perfoming a wedding.”

“Performing?”

“You know what I mean, solemnising or whatever they do.”

“Where are we meeting the good doctor?”

“Marks and Sparks at half past, whoops better get a move on—hold on to your hat.” I put my foot down and the car almost took off as four litres of engine or whatever is under the bonnet churned out its horsepower.

“Watch out, there’s a copper up ahead,” warned my somewhat paler passenger, so I slowed her down—the car not Stella—and we tootled past the patrol car more sedately, he however decided to pull in behind us and the miserable killjoy stayed there until we got to the outskirts of Salisbury.

We managed to park quite quickly and walked as fast as Stella’s shoes would allow to meet Siân. Then after hugs and air kisses we decamped to start our perusal of the merchants of Wiltshire’s premier city.

“How’s Kirsty and the baby?”

“Both are fine though we both wonder how you coped with a netball team, we find one hard work.”

“You just have to be organised...”

“Ha,” exclaimed Stella, “You, organised—tell me another.”

“Compared to you, I am...” I said sharply.

“Children, come along and play nicely together or you won’t get an ice cream later from your Auntie Siân.”

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